


passionate and disciplined, human and transcendent

by Bright_Elen



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't copy to another site, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Ezra has two dads, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Or maybe just, Order 66, POV CT-7567 | Rex, POV Kanan Jarrus, Polyamory, a little bit of, discussions of, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen
Summary: Jedi were never meant to see clones as anything but loyal (expendable) troops. Clones were never meant to see Jedi as anything but  Force-anointed (absolute) leaders. But plans are never the same after deployment.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/CT-7567 | Rex
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	passionate and disciplined, human and transcendent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarthLivion (impulsewriter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulsewriter/gifts).



The problem with the people you used to be, in Rex's opinion, was that they were never really gone. Down in Rex's heart of hearts was the Captain of the 501st, the Rex before learning about the chip. Below him was the Rex from before Umbara, before death after death had forced him to recognize that not all authority was worth serving. And underneath even him was CT-7567, the shiny so new he didn't even have a name yet.

And, okay, it was probably a good thing that he hadn’t forgotten what it had been like, because it let him help others who were in similar mental places, but, Force. Helping other clones was great and all, but sometimes he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t trade it for his own peace of mind.

Those past versions of himself lying dormant in his brain would wake up at the most inopportune times, try to drag him back down to their level through the dark waters of everything he’d left behind. He’d been having a nice morning with his brothers, a head full of maintenance work that needed to be done and plans to go hunting, but a few hours in the presence of a grumpy Jedi and his mouthy padawan, and Rex was calling him ‘sir’ and ‘general.’ Sure, name-dropping Ahsoka contributed, but apparently, some deep part of Rex still yearned to serve a knight of the Force, despite everything.

When Kanan leaped onto the Imperial walker, lightsaber blazing, the thrill it gave Rex drove home the fact that that particular desire was a lot closer to the surface than he’d hoped.

At the time, it was good, another rush over the adrenaline of battle. But later — after coordinating his squad’s move, after hours of hyperspace transit, after meeting Hera and the rudest astromech he’d ever seen and being reunited with Commander Tano — the high was long gone, and he was his current self again. And his current self hated how easy it had been to fall back into who he’d used to be. Hated how good it had felt. Hated himself for it, a little. And he might have hated Kanan for it.

If Kanan had accepted Rex’s deference, he would have. If Kanan had expected his loyalty like all the other Jedi had during the war, it would have been much more difficult for Rex to remember who he’d fought to become. If he’d had Kanan’s blind trust, Rex might have drowned in his own past without leaving much more than a ripple on the surface. 

But Kanan wasn’t like any Jedi Rex had ever met, and his refusal to be a general was the riverbed Rex could push off of to get his head above water again. There were still plenty of ways Rex wasn’t safe, but with the Jedi who struggled to trust clones, he knew CT-7567 wouldn’t be a problem.

* * *

For years, Kanan had thought that he’d put his past more or less behind him, at least as much as anyone could. He’d chosen a new name, a new profession, a new life. Eschewed organizations and embraced personal relationships. The galaxy was still a mess, but Kanan had chosen which parts of it to make his problem, and his own youth wasn’t on that list.

Then some trouble magnet of a kid fell into his life, and he had to delve back into that very past.

He didn’t regret it. Ezra was important, not just to Lothal or the Rebellion, but to Kanan. He’d gladly face his ghosts to help Ezra.

He should have known that willingness would be tested. When Ahsoka put emphasis on trusting her friend regardless of his first impression, he knew something was up, but he hadn’t been prepared for clones.

Though they were old, out of armor, and on a planet across the galaxy from Kaller, seeing the clones still plunged Kanan into the worst moments of his life. He was on the endless white plain of Seelos, putting himself between Ezra and the clones, and he was in the wooded hills of Kaller, watching Master Depa being gunned down by her own men. It was only his years of Jedi training and meditation — well, and Ezra holding him back — that let Kanan keep his head.

That didn’t mean his heart wasn’t trying to beat out of his chest, that he wasn’t tempted to rip the clones’ guns from their hands with the Force, leap onto the walker, and end the threat before they could hurt his padawan.

But though it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, Kanan let himself be guided not by his fears, but by his faith in Ezra and Ahsoka. By his hope that the future could be better than the past. 

It had been the right choice. And he was sure that Hera and Ahsoka would both tell him that it was good for him to begin to trust a clone. And he worked on it, he really did. He cooperated with Rex on several missions, learned how to operate with him as an addition to the team. 

Of course, personal growth and building a better future didn’t change how damn _annoying_ Rex could be. 

It was impressive, really, just how many ways he irritated Kanan: giving Ezra another excuse for missing lessons with Kanan; accusing _Kanan_ of lacking discipline, then turning around and calling him ‘sir’; going on and on about the way the clones had done things in the 501st. Not to mention that he made an objectively better nerf hash than Kanan did, which was just adding insult to injury.

And, of course, the part where he was smart, skilled, a good collaborator, selfless, and had a sense of humor, to boot. The nerve!

Oh, and when circumstances forced them into a mission together, Rex claimed he could infiltrate an Imperial ship better than Kanan and then smugly rattled off security codes. Which would have been bad enough on its own — it wasn’t Kanan’s fault that Jedi minutiae weren’t useful post-Republic — but after they’d found Ezra, Rex had to go and do his stupid self-sacrificing move _again._

“Stop trying to impress me!” Kanan snapped. Immediately regretting, of course, giving any hint that it was working.

Rex was too busy taking the situation seriously to take advantage, though. It took several corridors of Kanan making sure nobody else died or got left behind for the implications to fully set in.

It wasn’t a stunt to Rex. It was just what he was going to do, and he was prepared for it to be the last thing he did. 

Kanan couldn’t stop picturing what would happen to Rex alone. There would be too many Imps, eventually, and they’d shoot him down in the corridor, blaster bolts searing through the inadequate Imperial armor and through Rex’s all-too-human body. 

Unless they brought him in for questioning, which would probably involve an IT-O and all that entailed, and regardless, he’d be gone, completely unable to irritate anyone ever again, and—

Kanan changed direction. He had to get his friend. 

* * *

“Come on, old man,” Kanan said.

Maybe it was because it was the twelfth time in five days, maybe it was because the pain in his back had kept him up half the night, maybe it was the whispers he’d heard on the _Liberator_ , but Rex was done. “Not as old as you.”

It wasn’t their usual script, and Kanan looked at Rex, confused, mouth open as if to retort that it wasn’t true.

“Last month, you were telling Ezra that you’re thirty-one standards. I just turned thirty.”

Kanan pulled up short. Then his eyes roamed all over Rex, his mouth snapped shut, and he swallowed, expression turning stricken.

“I…” he started. Rex waited.

“I was younger than Ezra during the war,” Kanan tried again, “and I guess I knew I was technically older than the clones, but it was easy to forget when you were all adults.” Rex could feel Kanan’s eyes catching on his white beard, his wrinkles, his gut, expression growing more and more stricken. “I should have thought it through.” 

Rex had kept his spine straight under the scrutiny. “It is what it is.”

Kanan couldn’t even see the back pain, the ever-larger list of foods that disagreed with Rex, the way it took longer and longer to get well after even a minor illness.

“Come on then,” Rex said, and Kanan shook himself and nodded.

He never called Rex ‘old man’ again.

* * *

There was a day when Zeb was giving hand-to-hand combat training to new recruits, the kids were trying to one-up each other on their makeshift gravball court, and Chopper was happily arguing with AP-5 over logistics. It was rare that the _Ghost_ was quiet, so Hera, Rex and Kanan had arranged a quiet afternoon of tea, snacks, and a pirated transmission of the latest episode of the Pan-galactic Sing-Off.

The hot-headed young Mirialan man (Kanan’s favorite) was eliminated in the first round, which led to Kanan grumbling and Hera babying him mockingly. The tables were turned when the Moncalamari grandmother Hera had been rooting for lost the second round, and they were all yelling at the holo when the episode’s winner turned out to be the Coruscanti teenager.

“For what it’s worth,” Rex said after Hera and Kanan had more or less finished their rants about Imperial pressure and cultural domination, “I think they’re propping that kid up to make the season’s winner more of a surprise.” He stood up, stretched, and smiled. “Dancing Among the Stars did that two or three times, at least.”

Kanan folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. “Okay, then who do you think _will_ win?”

Rex grinned and winked. “That would be telling.”

Something in Kanan’s chest melted a little. 

“Good night, you two,” Rex finished, then left the galley.

Kanan glanced back at Hera. To his not-entirely-surprised dismay, she had a knowing smirk on her face.

To put off the inevitable, Kanan stood up, collected the tea mugs and dinner dishes, and started scrubbing.

Hera sidled up closer to him, leaning back against the counter as Kanan started washing a pot rather more vigorously than necessary. “When were you going to tell me, Kanan?”

Pretending he didn’t know what she meant would only make her more ruthless. “Didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” he muttered.

Hera scoffed. “Kanan. I know you. That wasn’t a friendly look. It wasn’t even a friends-with-benefits look.” She waited until Kanan met her gaze again, and then, amusement crinkling her eyes, said, “You’ve got a crush.”

Stiffening at having it named aloud, Kanan went back to the pot. “And that’s all it’s going to be.” Another few scrubs, and he put it in the rinse bin, picked up a mug with some dried chocolate sludge in the bottom. “Ugh. When is that kid gonna learn to rinse his dishes out?”

Hera shifted next to him, put one of her skilled, graceful hands on his arm. “Kanan. Look at me.” 

Kanan filled the mug with water and put it carefully in the sink to let it soak. Then he wiped his hands on a dish towel, and only then turned to face Hera.

“I know this is hard for you,” she said, and her hands came up to frame his face. No matter how many times she’d done it, it always felt special to Kanan, and he found his resolve softening. “Didn’t we agree, when we started working together? That life is uncertain, and we shouldn’t let opportunities for happiness pass us by?”

Kanan shook his head. “Things are different now. We have more responsibilities.”

“Banthashit,” Hera said. “There’s nothing about our responsibilities that a new relationship would threaten.” She pulled back, hands on Kanan’s now. “I also seem to recall us agreeing that we didn’t want what we had to preclude other connections.”

“You know I only said that so you wouldn’t leave me if you wanted to date someone else, right?”

Hera narrowed her eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you off the hook just because you trot out your abandonment issues, you are sorely mistaken, mister.”

Kanan stepped back, surprised and, okay, a little delighted. He loved it when Hera fought dirty. “Maybe, but I’m not mistaken that your dad being single and miserable has something to do with this matchmaking kick.”

Hera gasped in mostly-performed outrage. “Don’t think I won’t make you sleep on the couch.”

“I have my own room,” Kanan pointed out.

“It’s my ship,” Hera said, eyes sparkling. “You know what, go now. Get on the couch right now.”

Kanan grinned. “Make me.”

Laughing, Hera grabbed Kanan’s elbows and threw her weight into him, and he let himself be pushed backwards. He didn’t quite stick the landing, negotiating Hera’s limbs as he was, and wound up falling onto the couch, Hera knocking the air from his lungs as she landed on top of him.

When he could breathe again, Kanan was laughing too. Then Hera’s mouth was on his, and he got distracted by that for a good long while.

After a few passionate kisses, Hera slowed down to sweet and tender, and Kanan loved those, too. Then she pulled back, her hands on his chest, and looked at him with concern and affection in her eyes.

“At least think about it, will you?” she cajoled. “I just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

Kanan sighed. Exploring more feelings, especially ones that could upset his already-tumultuous social landscape, was the last thing he wanted to do. 

But it had been a long time since he could say no to something Hera asked of him.

“I’ll think about it.”

* * *

On his way onto the _Ghost_ from the _Liberator_ , Rex heard shouting coming from the crew deck. He jogged a few steps before the voices resolved into words and he realized what was happening. 

“Well maybe I don’t _want_ to talk about it!” Ezra’s voice was loud, angry, and had that edge that meant he was close to crying. 

“You’re hurting, Ezra, that’s completely natural, but if you don’t let yourself feel it, it will control you!” Kanan’s voice wasn’t quiet so loud, and he was doing a better job of reining in his emotions, but Rex could tell they were in the thick of their confrontation. 

“Shows what you know!” Ezra spat, and Rex stopped before going down the ladder, wanting to give them both some space. “I’ve been doing nothing _but_ feel it for days! Now leave me alone!”

“Ezra—”

There was the swish of a door closing, and then Kanan’s frustrated exhalation.

Rex mounted the ladder as loudly as he could, climbing down slowly.

Kanan was staring at Ezra’s closed door, expression angry but all the lines of his body indicating defeat.

“Come on, Kanan,” Rex said, patting him on the shoulder. “You look like you need a drink.”

Kanan opened his mouth to argue.

Rex raised an eyebrow.

Kanan sighed, nodded.

A little while later, they were in Rex’s quarters on the _Liberator_ , sitting on opposite ends of the bunk with a bottle of Kashyyyk fernfruit liquor between them. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to drink this,” Kanan complained, giving the green liquid a dubious look. “Ferns? Really?”

“It’s not so bad, once you get past the foretaste,” Rex said, amused at how fussy Kanan could be, even after the nomadic life he’d had.

“Don’t you mean aftertaste?”

Rex poured himself two fingers into the battered tin mug he’d snuck from the mess. “You’ll see.”

“I guess I will. Well, here goes nothing,” Kanan said, and brought his own mug to his lips, expression like someone about to reach into a swordfly nest.

Rex knew the instant the aroma of the liquor hit Kanan’s soft palate, given the look on his face, but he choked it down gamely, and after swallowing, his tortured expression relaxed. “Wow. Foretaste. Didn’t know that was a thing.”

Rex laughed, and took his own drink. The first hint was fairly vile, but the rest of it went down smooth, and the warmth spreading through his throat and chest was very nice. “You’re taking it well. You should have seen Wolffe the first time we had this. Before he calmed down we all thought he’d been poisoned.”

Kanan laughed. The sound spread through Rex much like the alcohol had.

They each finished their cups. Rex offered to pour Kanan another. 

Kanan nodded, handing the mug off. Rex took it, fingers overlapping Kanan’s slightly. 

“So,” Rex said, once he’d handed the mug back and poured himself a second drink. “Are you going to follow your own advice and talk about what happened back there?”

Kanan gave him a betrayed look. “I hate it when you quote me at me.” 

“Who doesn’t?” Rex smiled. “I completely respect your privacy and right to process things in your own time, of course.” 

Kanan narrowed his eyes. “That’s suspiciously gracious of you.” 

Grinning, Rex took another drink. “Respecting those things doesn’t mean I won’t tell Ezra.”

“You fight dirty.” 

“Come on, it will be good for you.”

“Fine.” Kanan finished off the rest of his drink and held out the mug again.

Rex topped him off without a word and waited while Kanan drank another few sips. Then leaned his head in his hands. Then sat up, tried to scrub his hand through his hair, growled when the ponytail prevented that, picked the hair tie out, shook his head, and finally scrubbed a hand through successfully.

Rex had never seen Kanan with his hair down before. He was lucky the alcohol gave him an excuse for the sudden heat in his face.

“It’s Ezra not talking about his parents,” Kanan finally said, and the topic knocked Rex out of his unhelpful thoughts. “I don’t know, maybe I’m being out of line here, but he’s been throwing himself into missions, and I worry he’s going to keep all those feelings bottled up and driving him in ways he might not have chosen.”

Rex nodded. “That’s a fair worry. The Force really seems to have its way with you Jedi when you’re off-kilter.”

“Exactly.” Kanan took another sip. “Maybe I should ground him for a while.” 

“Maybe.”

“But what if grounding him makes it worse? He was so desperate to find them, and now...” Moreso even than when he’d been staring at Ezra’s closed door, Kanan looked lost.

That was unacceptable. Rex leaned forward to squeeze Kanan's arm while he wracked his brain for anything that might prove even a little useful.

He'd never thought about his immunity from parental grief as a drawback before, but for the first time he thought it would have been helpful to share that particular pain.

"The good thing about having a team," he said at last, "is that we can all cover for each other. If Ezra needs grounding, at least one of us will catch it. If you ground him and he takes it badly, we'll be able to get him through it." He gestured with his mug. "I could kip on the _Ghost_ for a bit if it would help. Admiral Sato will understand. Especially for Ezra."

Kanan was suddenly very interested in his mug. “Uh. Yeah, that would— If it’s not a problem. Yeah.” He took a drink.

Rex gave him time. Kanan might not have treated clones like most other Jedi had, but he had just as much trouble accepting help as the rest of them.

“It’s awful that he lost his parents twice, and I do worry about that kid a lot,” Kanan spoke up again. “But I’m at least glad—” He stopped. Swallowed. Looked up again. “I’m glad he didn’t have to see them die.”

And, shavit. Kanan had tears in his eyes. Before he realized what he was doing, Rex had leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him.

There was no moment of tension. Kanan relaxed into the hug immediately, like they’d been doing it for months or years, his own arms coming up around Rex. It was almost surreal how natural it was. He’d never have imagined a hug between them to be easy.

Rex inhaled shakily and hugged tighter. “There’s not a day goes by that I don’t wish we could have convinced everyone about the chips. We failed so many people.”

Kanan pulled back, hands firmly on Rex’s arms, and leveled an unimpressed look at him. “Don’t you dare try to take responsibility for that. The clones were victims of the chips, too.” The look turned wry. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get my head out of my ass about that one.”

An intense wave of emotion flashed through Rex’s chest. He couldn’t begin to find words for that, opting to nod and grip Kanan’s arm instead.

The moment passed. They let go of each other and finished their drinks. Rex didn’t pour another round and Kanan didn’t ask him to.

“I’ll tell Hera you offered to come aboard. If the move works for everyone you can take my room. I’ll bunk with Hera or take the sofa.”

Rex’s pride wanted him to refuse and insist that he sleep on the sofa instead. His back very much didn’t want that, and the rest of him was busy, first imagining sleeping in a bunk that smelled like Kanan, and secondly realizing what that (and all the things he’d been noticing about the Jedi lately) meant.

 _Kriff._ “Thanks.”

* * *

Kanan was carrying a stack of his clothes from his room to the empty storage compartment in the common room. He’d already left some in Hera’s room, but he wanted to have some that he could access without bothering her or Rex.

«What are you doing?» Chopper rolled in behind him, curious. 

Kanan sighed. It was always going to get out to the rest of the crew eventually, anyway. “Rex is staying in my room for a while. I’ll be sleeping out here or with Hera.”

Chopper made a speculative noise. «Don’t you have a double bunk in there?»

Kanan shifted the laundry into one arm and opened the compartment. “The lower one is alright for sitting, but it’s not really made to sleep on. The couch is better.”

«Uh-huh.» Chopper was starting to sound amused. Kanan was probably in trouble. «Why not put Rex on the couch?»

Kanan closed the compartment and started back to his room to do one last check. “Because he’s doing us a favor, and it will be easier on me than on him.”

«Mm-hmm,» Chopper hummed, trundling along uninvited behind him. «Ooooor you’re trying to avoid temptation.»

So, okay, Kanan had _maybe_ thought about how nice it would be to sleep beside Rex’s solid presence. Maybe more than once. But he’d eat his holocron before he admitted that to Chopper, who was most likely just saying whatever he thought would be most incendiary.

“Nah, it’s just that we both need our space,” he said aloud, playing it as casual as he could.

«Keep telling yourself that,» Chopper giggled. «It will make it funnier when it blows up in your face later!»

Kanan rolled his eyes to cover the way the idea made his stomach tight. 

* * *

Rex was done with spiders. Or spider-shaped creatures of any kind. Regardless of size, but especially anything that required a weapon to kill. Most especially anything big enough to carry him off.

Carry him off, nearly give him a heart attack in the process, and truss him up so that he needed rescuing. Damned embarrassing, that. (Even if it was nice that the _Ghost_ crew cared enough to rescue him.)

And, of course, that getting free of the spiders had made him wrench his back a little. Nothing immobilizing, as long as he rested the day after and got a bit of bacta on it. But definitely aggravating.

And, he admitted to himself as he contemplated his borrowed bunk, painful. Would sleeping on the couch be better because he wouldn’t have to climb up onto it, or would it be worse because he couldn’t lie flat?

A moment of pain would be better than a whole night of it, he decided, and he set the jar of ointment on the bunk, along with a towel. Took of his boots and armor, cleaned his teeth. Then, like he had every night for the past few weeks, swung himself up onto the bunk.

His back flared in pain, a bright hot flash that might have made a shiny falter, but pushing through was a skill Rex had developed, and he made it onto the bunk. He lay still for a few moments, breathing through the agony.

He was just about to pick up the ointment and try to wrangle it onto his back when there was a knock at the door. Rex sat up. “Come in.”

The door wooshed aside, and Kanan stepped through.

“Sorry I didn’t come sooner. Wanted to make sure the kids were alright.”

Rex sat up straighter in alarm. “Were either of them injured?”

Kanan shook his head, and Rex relaxed a little. “Nah, but they’re both good at acting like being scared doesn’t bother them. But Sabine’s re-working her ceiling and Ezra’s on the canon sim, so they’re at least working their feelings out.”

Rex nodded. “‘S good.”

Kanan nodded, leaned against the wall next to the bunk, and jerked his chin at Rex. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Kanan rolled his eyes. “Don’t start with the ‘perfect soldier’ nonsense again. If those things had carted me off I’d need some kind of way to settle myself.”

Rex shrugged. “It wasn’t a picnic, but I’ll just grumble about it for a while. No long-term harm done.”

“Uh-huh.” Kanan did not sound convinced. “What about the short-term? I seem to recall someone telling me that being on a team means we can lean on each other when we need to.”

Rex chuckled wryly. “You’re right, it’s annoying as hell when people quote you at yourself.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Rex huffed. “Wrenched my back on the way down from the trap, alright? Just a muscle sprain, it’ll be fine in a few days. Was gonna put some ointment on it and rest up a bit.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Rex looked back to see a faint smile on his face, one that couldn’t help but call up a similar expression for Rex.

Kanan gestured at the jar of ointment. “D’you want me or someone else to help you with that?”

Frowning, Rex opened his mouth, but Kanan kept talking. “I’m not letting you fumble with it by yourself.”

With a wry laugh, Rex swung his legs back up onto the bunk and started pulling off his undershirt. “Might as well get it over with,” he grumbled, to cover the way his face was heating up at the idea of having Kanan’s hands on his skin.

Once he was naked from the waist up, Rex lay down facing the back of the bunk. “It’s the left side, right next to my spine, from about the shoulderblade down to the top of my hip.”

He heard Kanan opening the jar and stepping closer, and tried not to shiver at the other man’s proximity. 

“Here?” Kanan asked, fingertips ghosting over the area Rex had described. 

“Yeah.” Rex’s heart was pounding, but at least his voice held steady.

Then a pause followed by the burning cool of the ointment on his skin that still didn’t entirely hide the sensation of Kanan’s fingers on Rex’s skin. He started at Rex’s shoulder, applying the medicine methodically, massaging until the ointment began penentrating the skin. The aching throb of the muscle quieted under Kanan’s hands, and Rex had to fight not to melt too obviously.

Maybe he should have asked for someone else, he thought belatedly. Maybe a little guilt over Hera having to spend precious commander’s time on him, or enduring Zeb’s no doubt clumsy hands, would have been better than having to hold himself together under the feel of Kanan’s calloused hands soothing his pain.

“Hm, maybe I should have put gloves on,” Kanan mused, and the rumble of his voice from so close behind Rex was very much not helping his composure. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Rex said, familiar with the tingling almost-numbness that Kanan would be experiencing and trying to think about that rather than the fact that Kanan’s free hand had just come to rest on Rex’s waist, “if you avoid any fiddly work for a few hours.”

“Good to know.”

Breathing, Rex decided. Focusing on his breathing was a good idea for a number of reasons. So he paid attention to his inhalations, counted how long they were, then tried to match that with his exhalations, keep a steady rhythm.

It did help calm him, and he crossed a tipping point where Kanan’s touch was no longer maddening for how much Rex wanted more of it. For the last half of the procedure, Rex simply accepted Kanan’s care.

Maybe he was being overly sentimental, but it felt like peace and belonging radiated out from Kanan’s hands just as much as pain relief from the medicine.

Even when Kanan’s hands left Rex’s back, and he heard him closing the jar, the feeling didn’t go away. “That’s a lot better. Thank you.”

It was a surprise when Kanan dragged the blanket up over him. Was Rex imagining it, or did Kanan’s hand linger on his shoulder? 

“Any time, Rex.” 

* * *

After Malachor, Kanan’s eyes and face hurt, of course, sometimes enough to make his whole being throb with pain. But after bacta and a few days, it never lasted long, always fading into a dull ache he could easily ignore.

What hurt worse was knowing Ezra blamed himself for Maul’s treachery. What hurt worse was the unmistakable hitch in Hera’s breath when she saw Kanan’s face for the first time, or when she momentarily forgot and tried to show him something. What hurt worse was knowing that he couldn’t pilot or analyse maps or even take inventory any more. That he couldn’t play dejarik with Rex or watch Hera pull off an incredible maneuver. That he’d never see Ezra’s shit-eating grin or Sabine’s art ever again.

He meditated more. Tried to find guidance in the Force, in his holocron. Nothing new yet, which shouldn’t have upset him. Patience was an important Jedi practice, as well as letting the Force shape things rather than trying to impose his will on them instead.

If he was being honest, Kanan wasn’t very good at that part. Especially when Ezra seemed unstable and looking to get himself into even more trouble than usual. Just thinking about it jolted him out of his center every time.

Grunting in frustration, Kanan stood up from where he’d been kneeling just inside the base’s perimeter.

“You’re done?” Rex called from behind.

Kanan turned to face him. Sighed. “Not making any progress, that’s for sure.”

“It’ll come.”

“Nice of you to say so.”

“It’s late, Kanan. Come inside, get some rest.”

Kanan sighed, but he was already walking towards Rex’s voice, going slow to avoid tripping. “I thought it was getting colder.” 

Rex laughed. “It’s a lot colder! If you weren’t sure, then your meditation was working better than you think.”

Kanan shook his head. “No, the point of meditation is to connect, not isolate.”

Rex made a noncommittal noise, and then they walked in companionable silence. Kanan deeply appreciated the fact that Rex hadn’t tried to convince him everything was fine.

It wasn’t. Ezra was in crisis, the war was just as bad as always, and Kanan was still figuring out how to be useful to both his padawan and the Rebellion. Basically everyone, Hera included, had tried to get Kanan to look on the bright side. He understood their intentions, and didn’t blame them for it, exactly, but not having to deal with it was a relief.

Soon he heard Rex’s boots on the makeshift decking, and then they were walking through base to the _Ghost._ Kanan had memorized the steps and turns necessary to get there, but it was nice to have Rex’s footsteps to follow. He didn’t need to worry that getting lost in his thoughts would get him lost in the base, too.

Soon enough they were climbing the ramp, and then Rex stopped outside the door to what was, once again, Kanan’s room.

“Need anything?” he offered.

Kanan swallowed. “Come inside a minute? I think one of the drawers is off it’s track and I’d like verification.”

“‘Course.” 

When the door had closed behind them both, Kanan sat on the bench, took his boots off. His pauldron and belt, too.

Rex opened and closed the drawer. “Hm, looks fine to me.”

Kanan nodded. “Sorry, that was just...I didn’t want to ask out there.”

A pause. The slight sounds of Rex shifting his weight. “Ask what?”

“I’d like it,” Kanan said, and it was hard, but not nearly as hard has he’d feared it would be, all those months ago. Perhaps being blinded and nearly losing Ezra had given him perspective. “If you stayed the night.”

“On the _Ghost_? Yeah, I can bunk on the sofa—”

“Here. With me.” Kanan folded his hands to keep from wringing them. “No expectations. I just want your company, however you’re willing to give it.”

An intake of breath. “I…” Rex swallowed audibly. “What about Hera?”

Kanan smiled wryly. “She’s the one who encouraged me to say something.” 

Rex laughed. “Of course she did.”

Kanan heard him take a few more steps forward, closing the distance. “You want to be between me and the wall or other way ‘round?”

Relief and anticipation made Kanan’s heart flutter. “Uh. I hadn’t actually thought this far ahead.”

Again, Rex laughed, and Kanan relished the sound. “In that case I’ll take the outside. Won’t have to wake you if I need to get up.”

Kanan nodded, and found himself smiling. He rose, climbed up to the bunk, and scooted as far back as he comfortably could.

Then the sounds of Rex climbing up, the familiar-but-different feeling of another body on the mattress beside him. Rex was heavier than Hera— heavier than Kanan, being so sturdily built— and so Kanan was unprepared to be pulled forward. He reflexively put an arm out to catch himself, heart beating faster when his hand wound up on Rex’s chest. 

“Sorry,” Kanan murmured. “Not used to being the lighter one.”

A chuckle rumbled through Rex’s chest, through Kanan’s hand. The sound was warmth itself. “No worries, love.”

Breath catching, Kanan reached up, found Rex’s rough-bearded jaw, let his hand curl around it until his fingertips were resting just over Rex’s pulse. In response Rex shifted closer, his body heat warming Kanan. 

Kanan leaned closer still, and he felt Rex angle his head in a familiar dance. They were both moving slowly, carefully, so it was easy to find Rex’s lips with his own and keep the pressure soft. Tender. Kanan’s heart swelled at Rex’s pleased hum, at Rex’s fingers squeezing his shoulder. It was a light, sweet kiss, and then he pulled away, rested his forehead against Rex’s and slid his hand to his waist. 

"With you?" Kanan's other hand rested on Rex’s chest, right over his heart. As Rex wrapped his arms more fully around him, Kanan smiled, finally seeing what had been true all along. "I don't have to."


End file.
